She was looking around nervously, it looked like she was making sure she was alone. He waited patiently as she had a good look around then quickly unbuttoned her jeans and sat down on a picnic bench, slipping off her trainers then easing the tight denim from her slender legs. ‘Good grief, I think she’s undressing, Betsy!’ he muttered as he slipped behind a tree trunk, his years of army training kicking in as he blended into the shadows in his dull olive jacket and brown cords. He wondered where she’d come from and what on earth she was up to. The first question was probably the easiest. She looked about eighteen or nineteen so she was probably from St Catherine’s, the school about a mile downstream. He pondered the second question as he watched her unbuttoning her white blouse and sliding it over her pale shoulders. Was she sunbathing, or about to go for a swim? He’d heard a lot of rumours about the school. Was it was some kind of bizarre initiation ceremony? Whatever the reason, he. You can’t unring a bell.Eric was sitting quite still while she thought. He kissed her shoulder occasionally -- not the top edge that he’d kissed in the beginning and had kissed sexily -- he was kissing the corner, the boniest part. That was Eric. She’d make a decision, and he would accept her decision. And, if she didn’t quite love Eric, she loved that about him.Then, too, she was scared; she had a damned good reason to be scared. And she was less scared with Eric. The fact that he was waiting for her decision was an argument for having sex with him.If she met a man later who swept her off her feet, she might freeze up at the last moment if her only memory was of Jerry. If she froze at the last minute today, Eric would stop. Who else would? When she met the one who would be her lifetime mate, she couldn’t give him the gift that he would be the only man who was ever in her pussy. Jerry had taken the ability to give that gift from her. Would it be so much worse for him if she gave him.
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